


The Coffee Shop AU

by MirrorElm



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Very Cheesy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorElm/pseuds/MirrorElm
Summary: Tommy Shelby works at his family's coffee shop. His life gets spiced up when a new mysterious man begins rennovaions across the street.
Relationships: Ada Shelby/Freddie Thorne, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 10
Kudos: 127





	The Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> Back again, this time with one of my favourite tropes.

It’s seven a.m. Tommy’s just downed his first triple espresso of the day, hoping it will get him through the busiest first couple of hours of work. He’s been working at his family’s coffee shop The Campfire Roast for about two years and five months now and yet he still hasn’t lost his hatred for the morning rush on Mondays. Thankfully, Ada’s there.

As soon as they open their doors, a swarm of grumpy customers eager to get their caffeine fix fill the quaint small spaces of their workspace. Tommy’s grateful he can leave customer service to his sister, who seems more palatable at this hour, or any hour, if he’s honest. Ada’s bright smiles earn her tips she uses to add to her savings for college. Full of energy and big dreams, this one.

It’s about two hours later when the commotion dies down enough for Ada to wipe the surfaces again and fuss with the sugar packets on the few tables they have indoors. Tommy steps out front for a quick smoke.

He’s been taking his breaks in front of the coffee shop ever since renovations across the street began. The store there had been closed for years, but apparently someone had deemed it worthy of investment and bought it, slowly bringing life into the old decrepit place. That someone being a big bearded man with tattoos, messy brown hair, wide shoulders, big arms and ringed fingers. Tommy feels them slide against his skin in his dreams sometimes.

Fuck, it’s been too long since he’s had a proper fuck.

None of the Shelby’s even know this man’s name. For a while, they all placed bets on what the shop will end up as. Tommy thought it would involve army equipment in some way or another and Ada was sure it would be a tattoo shop, but in the end, Polly was the one who hit the nail on the head, a bakery. The big scary man making tiny macaroons. Ada loved it already.

Tommy didn’t really care either way, but he enjoyed these little moments in his day, when he got to lean against the building, smoking, pretending to look nowhere in particular, secretly taking in the stretch of the man’s shirt across his back. It was getting warmer in Small Heath, he was bound to take it off any day now. Tommy smirks to himself a little and stubs out his cigarette before returning back to work.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tommy!” Ada practically shrieks from the register, “he’s coming over!”

“What?” Tommy lifts his head, “who?”

He’s answered with the ring of a bell. It’s the man from across the street. He’s been eyeing the coffee shop a couple times before, but he’s never come in. Tommy does his best to look unimpressed.

“Good day, madam,” the man offers. Tommy chides himself for what that voice does to him, he _really_ needs to get laid, or this will only get worse.

“Good day to you too, sir,” Ada beams back at him, “what can I get for you?”

“I’d just like a bottle of water, if you have one,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

She nods and goes to the fridge. For a moment Tommy’s eyes meet his from where he’s leaning next to the coffee machine. He hopes to fucking god he doesn’t blush.

Ada rings him up and he smiles at her, “I’m Alfie Solomons by the way, I guess I’m your new neighbour.”

“I’m Ada,” she shakes his hand.

“I’m Tommy.”

Fuck. Why did he say that? Why on earth did he fucking call attention to himself?

Doesn’t matter, what’s done is done, he tries to shake it off with a curt nod in their direction as the pair look at him. Ada’s got that glint in her eye that only bodes ill.

“Pleased to meet you,” Solomons says as he takes his water, then looks Tommy in the eyes with a smirk, “both of you.”

Well that settles it, Tommy’s going to bury himself somewhere deep in the dirt and never come out again. The man leaves.

Oh no, Ada’s looking at Tommy. She’s fucking grinning.

“Cute, isn’t he?” she sounds giddy.

Tommy shrugs and she goes back to work with that smile still plastered on her face.

He decides he’s going to clean one of the machines now, trying hard not to think about that man. About how much more handsome he is up close. About those grey eyes and that disarming smile. About that little adorable fucking wonky tooth. When he groans he can almost convince himself it’s because of the coffee grains he’s gotten on himself.

The next couple of days Alfie Solomons keeps coming back. Apparently, him and Ada get along very well, much to Tommy’s chagrin. At first, Tommy didn’t mind that both him and Ada had a thing for the mysterious man, when he was still just a crush in the distance, but now that he’s there every day, chatting up his sister, it’s become a nuisance. Maybe he feels a bit jealous. Maybe.

He doesn’t always hear what they’re talking about, often electing to go on a smoke break, which Alfie once called _a disgusting habit_ , so that’s fucking great, or he just goes in the back room. Not that it’s painful or anything, to listen to them, it’s just really not in his interest to watch them flirt like that.

Today, however, Tommy is working alone, so there’s nowhere to hide when the baker walks in, this time carrying a carboard box of sorts.

“Green tea with honey?” Tommy asks automatically. Fuck, why did he bother remembering his usual drink?

Alfie grins and sets the box on the counter, “sounds lovely, mate.”

Tommy makes the drink and sets it at Alfie’s usual place at the counter corner, “Ada’s not working today, sorry,” he comments once the other man’s seated.

“No problem,” Alfie fiddles with the box, “just be you and me then, which is good, yeah, because lovely as she is, your sister really doesn’t give you room to talk much, does she?”

Tommy shrugs, suddenly nervous. He eyes the box as Alfie opens it, revealing several different types of pastries.

“Really, it’s good, this, ‘cause I need you to try these, anyways,” Alfie sets the food on the counter, looking expectantly at Tommy, who only raises his brow at him.

“I asked Ada if I could sell my stuff here instead of this absolute dogshit,” he waves in the general direction of the stale, store bought pastries Polly supplies them with, “and she said you’d be the one to talk to for this kind of business.”

Right, business. That’s all it is. Tommy ignores the slight pang in his chest and takes a bite of the pink macaroon, caught off guard by how good it tastes. He’s never even liked sweets. His thoughts become less tangled for a bit. It’s a great idea, really, promoting the bakery across the street while getting some extra revenue off of actually palatable baked goods.

“So you _do_ eat,” the baker laughs, snatching Tommy from his focus, “didn’t believe Ada when she said you do, but I guess I’m fucking wrong.”

Tommy feels heat creep up his neck, but he clears his throat and brushes that comment off, “these are good,” he motions at the line up, “I’ll have Polly call you about setting things up.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” he smiles back. Alfie settles neatly into his chair, sipping on his tea. There’s not too many customers at this hour, which is why the baker visits exactly at this time, so he can chat with Ada. But now that she’s not here, Tommy fears an awkward silence will fill the room. Alfie speaks before he can truly finish that thought.

“You can try more than one you know,” he says before grabbing the rest of the pink macaroon and eating it in one bite, which should not be as hot as it fucking is, “baked it special for you.”

Tommy tries the other pastries. It’s obvious that Alfie’s put a lot of work into his craft. He’s not even familiar with the names of most of them, but Tommy still enjoys every piece. His favourite is a small tart with raspberries. It’s the only one he eats entirely. The rest are all finished by Alfie.

“Can’t let good food go to waste, can I?” Alfie offers, holding eye contact while he finishes and awfully phallic éclair in one go. Tommy swallows visibly.

“So, Tommy Shelby,” the baker begins once they’ve finished their pastry eating experience, “I hear you like horses, hm?”

“I-,” Tommy furrows his brow, “how do you know?”

“Well,” the baker strokes his beard as if he’s deep in thought, “since you usually run off whenever I step foot in here, right, I’ve had find out everything I know about you from that lovely sister of yours, right? And she told me, that you like horses.”

Tommy nods, “they’re simple. Calming.”

Why the fuck is he sharing that with Alfie? Why does Alfie even care?

The baker hums thoughtfully, “a real reflection of the person next to them, right? They’re calming, cause if you get nervous, they get nervous, eh?”

There’s a small smirk forming on Tommy’s lips as he agrees, “it’s a great way to learn how to relax.”

“Or else,” Alfie adds playfully.

“Or else,” Tommy echoes. Both of them with barely there smiles on their faces.

The baker stays and chats for another hour, this time thankfully taking his focus off of Tommy and sharing more of himself. He’s new in town, nervous about the bakery opening in a few days and has a dog named Cyril. Apparently, were it not a gross health code violation, he’d have the dog with him as he bakes.

“He’s a great listener,” Alfie muses, “I get to talk him through the recipes and he always helps me find small improvements. Better than Ollie, for sure. Although you might give him a run for his money with your steely silence.”

Tommy tries not to smile at the baker’s ramblings, but he fails several times and Alfie’s eyes crinkle every time he does.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Polly’s made a deal with the baker. He gets to sell his pastries in the coffee shop, which means he’s there every morning with a cardboard box of heavenly smelling baked goods. When the bakery itself opens, Alfie also spends all his breaks with the Shelby’s and Tommy’s resigned himself to the impossibility of avoiding the man.

“You eaten today, Tommy?” Alfie asks gruffly one morning as he hauls the large cardboard box with a smaller one on top onto the counter.

Tommy shakes his head.

“Thought so,” he nods to the smaller box, “eat up, treacle. And don’t forget to share with your sister.”

Ada almost squeals when she opens it to find two small chocolate croissants. She makes Tommy eat his and it becomes a daily ritual, Alfie bringing them breakfast along the pastries. Tommy still leaves the room when Alfie and Ada interact. He’s trying not to get attached to the man, it’s obvious he’s really into Ada and just wants to be friendly with Tommy for the sake of being nice, but fucking shit it’s hard.

Alfie’s probably straight, which is why he most likely doesn’t notice how unintentionally flirtatious some of his actions and words can be, _god the éclair_ , but that doesn’t mean that their effect on Tommy is any lesser. It also doesn’t help that Tommy stubbornly refuses to go out and find someone he doesn’t know to fuck him into the sheets, which makes him particularly frustrated today.

“Good morning,” Alfie cheers way too happily for the time that it is. This time, there’s two small boxes besides the big one, labelled _Tommy_ and _Ada_. He’s actually made them two seperate full meals for breakfast.

“Alfie, you know you don’t have to feed us,” Tommy protests as he opens his box, mouth already watering.

“If you’d feed yourself I wouldn’t have to,” the baker quips.

Tommy smiles as he’s hit in the ribs by Ada, answering her raised eyebrows with and innocent, “thank you, Alfie.”

Alfie preens, “you’re welcome, Thomas.”

Tommy puts away the food for now, returning to his work setting up the red flowers they got from Esme around the coffee shop. He’s by the front window when he hears Alfie by his side.

“Pretty things, these flowers,” the man says, “peonies?”

“Carnations,” Tommy corrects. The baker is standing so close that if Tommy were to turn, he’d surely bump into him. The thought makes his skin prickle. Clearing his throat, he moves to his right to put some respectable distance between Alfie and himself.

“They’re my favourite,” he adds shyly. Fucking shit, he so easily overshares with the baker.

If Alfie notices his nervous behaviour, he doesn’t say anything. He only nods, “good to know.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tommy, can you cover for me?” Ada’s innocent sing song voice rings over the counter, “I’ve got a date.”

Tommy’s heart sinks. He’s been waiting for this. Ever since Alfie’s started visiting them, he’s been waiting for the day when he’d ask her out. Granted, it’s taken him longer than he’d expected, but here it is.

“Alright,” he tries to sound casual, “who is it?”

She squirms a little, “You’ll get mad.”

Tommy sighs. That obvious, is he?

“It’s alright Ada, you don’t have to spare my feelings. Out with it.”

“And you promise you won’t get upset?”

“Promise.”

“Alright,” she takes a deep breath, “Freddie Thorne.”

What?

“What?”

He looks at her dumbfounded. Freddie? Freddie, his best mate the communist agitator, Thorne? His confusion shows visibly on his face, but only for a moment before he collects himself. Apparently, he was wrong. Or maybe she’d just rejected Alfie. He pushes that line of thought aside for a moment.

“You’re not dating Freddie.”

“You promised you wouldn’t get upset,” she protests, “and it’s not like you have any say in who I get to date.”

“Ada,” he tries to sound stern, “he’s a right charmer, I know, but he’s not right for you.”

“How would you know?” Ada is already putting on her coat, “you haven’t seen what he’s like with me.”

Fucking hell she sounds smug. And _smitten_. Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose and is about to say something reasonable when the door opens and Alfie walks in. The baker seems to immediately notice something amiss.

“Interrupting something, am I?” he asks, prompting two glares from the Shelby siblings. He raises his hands up in defeat and Ada scoffs.

“No,” she straightens her coat a little more firmly than strictly necessary, “I was just leaving.”

“Ada, you’re making a mistake-,” Tommy tries but she’s out before he gets to finish his sentence. The counter is cool on his forehead as he leans on it. Fucking Freddie Thorne is going to break his little sister’s heart. Tommy almost doesn’t notice the hand on his arm.

“Everything alright, mate?” the voice is soothing and the touch is light, but distinctly warm and electrifying. Tommy doesn’t move away from it, deciding to stay as he is. The face-on-counter thing helps hide his blush at least.

“She’s dating an arse,” he sighs, then he realises something. Alfie probably didn’t even know Ada was dating someone else.

“Sorry,” he adds. At least he somewhat understands how it feels when someone you’re into wants someone else.

“Sorry for what, mate?” Alfie asks, his words punctuated by the stroke of his thumb on Tommy’s arm. It takes all of Tommy’s willpower to lift himself up and away from the touch.

“Doesn’t matter,” he waves it off, “tea?”

“Sure,” the baker doesn’t push, “had a lovely day then, I guess?”

Tommy allows a humourless laugh to escape him, “the best.”

It’s a more pleasant conversation from then on. Tommy is a little on edge because of Ada, but Alfie keeps him distracted enough. He finds it odd how easily Alfie took the news of Ada dating someone else. Maybe he wasn’t that interested. Maybe he wasn’t interested in her at all. No, that would be silly, why else would he spend so much time there with them?

Tommy knows the other man is just probably good at hiding his disappointment, but still he lets hope bubble up inside him. What if Alfie likes _him_? It’s not impossible.

That hope only grows as Alfie’s visits don’t seem to decrease even after finding out about Ada and Freddie.

Speaking of Freddie and Ada, they’ve begun full on dating now, holding hands, saying sweet nothings into each other’s ear, making out in the break room. It’s Tommy’s personal hell. Ada has a newfound hatred for capitalism, which she loudly proclaims to any customer she serves coffee to who is willing to listen. And Tommy, of course, who’s already heard the same things from Freddie a thousand times before. On one particular morning, her ramblings are even worse than usual.

“Ada, it’s not even seven yet,” Tommy pleads.

She’s about to say something meaningful and intellectual, he’s sure, but he’s spared the lecture when Alfie walks in with his pastries _and breakfast_ , of course.

“Alfie, help me,” the older Shelby stage whispers as the other man approaches, taking the cardboard boxes off of his hands.

Alfie grins, “now, now, Thomas, I’m sure as part of the working class you are privy to the worst of capitalism’s oppressive and exploitative nature. Ada here merely wants to open your eyes.”

That fucking enabler. Ada smiles and disappears in the back with her breakfast while Tommy puts his below the counter. He usually eats it right away and chats with Alfie for a bit, but he’s not really hungry so he’ll get to it later. The baker lingers nervously.

“Not going to open your breakfast?” he asks.

“Not hungry,” Tommy begins unpacking the pastries, “I’ll get to it later. You can help me with these if you’d like to stay for a bit.”

Alfie nods and steps behind the counter. Well, Tommy hasn’t thought this through, has he. There’s not much space where they have access to the display case, so they’re standing a little too close for Tommy’s comfort. Well, really, they’re not standing close enough, if he’s honest, but that’s not the point. He can feel the touch of Alfie’s body when they accidentally press against each other every now and then which gives him all sorts of pleasant feelings.

“Not like that,” Alfie sounds offended. He leans in close and reaches into the display case where Tommy’s put a croissant and adjusts it, “there, better.”

They’re inches away and their eyes lock. Fucking hell he’s handsome. They linger like this for a moment and Tommy feels a pull towards the baker, but the moment is gone as quickly as it came as Ada’s heels click and announce her arrival. Alfie goes back in front of the counter and he seems… flustered?

“I’ll, uh, be off then,” he offers, “do enjoy your breakfast, Tommy.”

Tommy only nods and then the baker is off. Ada raises her eyebrows for him but he dismisses her with a simple _it’s nothing_. Because maybe it is. He hopes it’s not.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tommy!”

Tommy’s standing in front of the shop on his usual smoke break, eyes not so subtly fixed on a focused Alfie from across the street. He’s aligning some crepes and seems to have trouble finding the correct placement. It’s adorable.

“Tommy!”

He can almost pretend his name isn’t Tommy and continue basking in the sight of Alfie’s incredibly delicate and elegant hands, but the voice calling his name is coming closer and it doesn’t seem too keen on being ignored.

When he turns to his left, he sees Arthur approach him, fuming.

“Yes, Arthur?” he takes a drag of his cigarette, calm demeanour a stark contrast to his brother’s rage.

“The fucking Italians, Tommy,” he spits, “that bastard is working with the fucking Italians.”

Tommy offers no reply and instead only raises his eyebrows in question.

“Solomons,” Arthur huffs, “he’s been selling his stuff to Sabini’s coffee shop down the road. I’ve just seen it with me own eyes.”

Tommy doesn’t believe what he’s just heard. It can’t be. What they have with Alfie, what Tommy has with Alfie, it’s special, it means something. Right? Alfie wouldn’t just run to their biggest competitor down the street and work with him behind their backs, would he? Tommy does his best to keep the shock from his face, “show me.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door to the coffee shop opens and the bell rings. Tommy’s just done serving a couple at one of the tables when he spots the baker’s cheery face.

“Hello lads,” the man greets happily, “Tommy, you had time to enjoy your breakfast yet?”

Tommy glares at him and turns away, heading to the break room, “I’m taking five, Ada,” he says to his sister as he passes her by the register. She nods, all the while keeping her own glare directed at the now confused Alfie.

Alfie steps up to the counter with a furrowed brow, “missing something, am I?”

In the break room, Tommy’s begun making himself some tea just to occupy his hands. The door behind him creaks and he turns to see Alfie step inside.

“Employees only,” Tommy spits.

“Right, be that as it were, I am not fucking leaving until either you or your scary sister tell me why I’ve become public enemy number one,” the baker closes the door behind him and crosses his arms.

“We know,” is all Tommy says, turning his back on the other man, fidgeting with the tea leaves.

He can practically hear the baker raise his hands in confusion, “oh, yeah, mate, that clears it all up. Now I understand, right, you’ve found out about my… pot of gold? Hidden deep dark secrets of murder? Alien ancestry? Fucking spit it out, Tommy.”

“Sabini,” Tommy turns to face Alfie, who is much closer than anticipated. The baker drops his arms.

“What about him?” Alfie sounds defiant, challenging.

“You’re on his payroll,” the words are laced with disgust as he says them.

“Right,” Alfie agrees, “I’m selling my goods there, yeah. And I’m selling them here.”

“He’s our main competitor,” he feels dumb stating the obvious. He’s getting angry.

“And how is that my problem?” Alfie half shouts, “it’s just fucking business Tom, what kind of a fucking business owner would I be if I didn’t diversify, hm?”

Tommy nods. He feels bitter, “just business, eh? Well if it’s just business then you can just fuck off and stop bothering us while we’re trying to work every fucking day, hm? Fuck off and waste someone else’s time, then.”

Alfie seems stung. He crosses his arms again but he’s hunched, less confident and maybe a little hurt.

“Thought we got along well,” he offers reluctantly.

Tommy gives a sardonic response: “So did I, now fuck off.”

The baker leaves without a fight and Tommy almost throws the kettle against the wall when he hears it whistle. Just business. He should have known. Fucking naïve of him to think any of those interactions meant anything. In the end, Alfie was just fostering a business relationship with the Shelby’s, the same way he probably had with Sabini. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, Tommy shouldn’t care this much, but he’d been so sure this was something special.

He’s brought back from his mental self-flagellation by Ada’s presence.

“Want to burn it?” she’s holding the small cardboard box with his breakfast from this morning. Right, Tommy hadn’t gotten to that yet. He shakes his head, “can’t let good food go to waste, can we,” he extends his hand and she hands it over, joining him as he’s leaning on the counter.

Tommy eyes the cardboard box with sad eyes.

“I thought he liked you too, you know,” she says and Tommy looks at her with wide eyes, “oh don’t be so surprised. I know you, Tommy.”

She leans her head on his shoulder as they both stare at the door.

“Who’s minding the register?” Tommy wonders.

“We’ll hear the bell,” Ada sighs.

They sit there in silence for a bit and it helps. Ada’s always had a way of calming Tommy and helping him deal with heartbreak. The box feels heavy in his grip.

Ada jumps to her feet when they hear the bell, “you enjoy your breakfast, I’ll take care of it. If you want to get drunk after work, I’m willing.”

She’s off with a wink.

Tommy sits down at the small wooden table and sets about carefully opening the box. Inside, he finds a lemon tart with various berries on top (Tommy’s favourite), a folded note and… is that a carnation? He gingerly picks up the flower blossom and sets it aside. Then he takes out the note.

_In the beginning we start with roses. The king’s flower right? Only they wilt in less than a day, especially when exposed to the elements. But Carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every colour. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt._

Tommy stares at the note for a good minute.

So this is… something.

It’s certainly not nothing. But it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes any sense right now. Tommy is angry at Alfie for his deal with the Italians, but his heart flutters when he catches sight of the carnation. And the note is a whole other can of worms.

All these confusing feelings make his head spin. Tommy eats the tart and puts the flower back in the box along with the note. He needs to think.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t be serious,” Arthur protests.

It’s an emergency family meeting he’s called because of Alfie’s work with Sabini. They’re sitting around the wooden table in the break room of the coffee shop, well after closing hours, each member of the family nursing their own glass of whisky.

Polly ashes her cigarette in the glass ashtray, “why not? It’s not like he’s killed someone.”

“He’s working with the enemy,” Arthur growls standing up. He begins pacing the room.

Polly chuckles, “the _enemy_? Listen to yourself,” she takes another drag of her cigarette, “yes, the deal with Sabini is less than ideal for us, but we never established an exclusive contract.”

“It was implied,” Arthur argues.

“And yet,” she counters, “never written down.”

Polly leans back, relaxed, “we offer him a bigger sum for his exclusivity and if he says no, we keep things as they are. His food brings extra traffic, we can’t lose his business.”

Arthur doesn’t seem happy with this, but Polly’s tone allows no argument. She stubs out her cigarette, “Tommy, you go to him. Negotiate. Ten percent is the highest we can go up on the price. It’s not much, but try anyways.”

Ada leans forward, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pol-,”

“Ada,” Tommy interrupts, “I’ll get it over with tomorrow.”

He’s not sure he can handle it, but he’s not about to be relegated useless to his family business because of some stupid crush. The meeting is over and Tommy does his best to repress any and all emotion until the new deal with Alfie is settled.

The next morning it’s Ollie who brings over the baked goods, surprising both Ada and Tommy. Really, he thinks, they shouldn’t be surprised. Tommy was quite harsh yesterday. Too harsh. He should probably apologise.

“Ollie, is Alfie at work?” he asks the young nervous man.

“Of course, mister Shelby.”

Tommy only nods and steps out of the Coffee shop, his brisk pace making sure no thoughts of doubt can reach him before his hand is on the entrance of Alfie’s bakery.

He opens the door without giving himself time to think and walks in on Alfie and a very disgruntled Sabini.

“This is outrageous,” the Italian shouts.

“Right, yeah, mate,” Alfie nods, not paying him much attention, focusing on the bread in his display case instead. Neither of them seem to notice Tommy. Alfie speaks, “outrageous, yeah, is the fact that I’ve ever let my delicious pastries be sold along side that rat piss which you seem to call coffee. I mean really, mate, you put those grains in your arsehole before you grind them? Fucking hell.”

Tommy smirks. Sabini’s coffee is actually quite delicious, but the whole attitude and atmosphere of the coffee shop is as smug as the man himself, which of course helps drive business to the Shelby’s, so he’s not complaining. The Italian spots Tommy by the door.

“You have something to do with this, Shelby?” he sneers, “I should have known.”

Alfie freezes at that momentarily, but continues with his work without turning around. Sabini storms out of the place and Tommy is left alone in the room with the baker. He steps closer to the man still fidgeting with his pastries and clears his throat.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tommy tries to sound neutral, but there’s an amusement he can’t really hide.

Alfie huffs at that and finally stands up to face him, wiping his hands in his apron, “he just doesn’t appreciate me the way he used to,” he says mockingly.

They chuckle and Tommy looks down, suddenly feeling very guilty, “about yesterday-,”

“It’s alright, mate,” Alfie interrupts, “I didn’t know working with Sabini would be such an issue. It’s done now, though, right?” he waves towards the door for emphasis, “he’s out of the picture. Just Alfie and the Shelby’s now, hm?”

Tommy looks up, “yeah, thank you. Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, you’re not a bother it’s just…” he drags his palm across his face, “I just though we had something… special, I don’t know,” Tommy waves his hand, “it’s stupid. Just business. But it’s alright now.”

“Tommy, you silly boy,” Alfie steps closer, “you think I personally deliver the pastries to Sabini every fucking morning? You think I make him breakfast? Spend my time with him? Fucking hell, you daft boy.”

Tommy looks into Alfie’s eyes and there’s something so earnest about them.

“The flower,” he begins, but he’s not sure how to continue. Alfie steps even closer, “ah, so you didn’t throw the box to hell yesterday. I’m not great with grand romantic gestures, right, so I thought to myself _something small and simple for Tommy, yeah, that could work_.”

The silence that follows is like a coiled spring. They’re looking straight at each other. It’s an admission, an offer and Tommy is not going to deny it this time.

“It did,” Tommy barely even whispers before he closes the small gap between them and kisses him. It’s short and chaste and oh so sweet when Alfie puts his arms around Tommy’s waist to keep him right there, nestled against his chest.

“Hmm, good to know,” he purrs and Tommy giggles at the way his beard tickles his sensitive skin when they kiss again. This time it’s languid and deep, Tommy’s hands pinned against the other man’s chest, balled up in fists and bound to leave some wrinkles in his shirt while one of Alfie’s arms keeps him pressed close and the other slowly moves up his back to the nape of his neck.

They’d stay like this forever if it weren’t for the awkward cough from a nervous Ollie who’s just entered the room.

Alfie groans as Tommy untangles himself from him, “fuck off, Ollie.”

“Apologies, sir,” Ollie responds, “but we are opening in ten minutes.”

Tommy sorts himself out so he looks at least somewhat respectable, “no worries, Ollie, I’ve got to get back anyways,” he leans in to press a kiss on Alfie’s cheek, making him grin, “you’re, uh, welcome to drop by any time, mister Solomons.”

When he walks back into the shop, Ada’s sympathetic eyes turn into a devious stare when he tells her it’s all settled with a blush he’s not entirely able to hide. If she doesn’t suspect anything at first, she certainly does when Alfie shows up not two hours later and disappears into the break room with Tommy.

The moment the door closes Tommy is on him, kissing him urgently. Fuck, they can’t do it in here, the walls are paper thin, but he _needs_ this so much. He’s pawing at the other man’s pants when gentle hands grab his wrists and push him away slightly, “slow down, treacle,” Alfie chuckles, “there’s no rush.”

“Alfie,” Tommy’s voice is hoarse, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He lets himself be manhandled onto the counter, the baker slotting himself between his legs, dictating a far more relaxed pace with his kisses and touches and ringed fingers finally slipping beneath his shirt, “tell me. How long you’ve wanted this,” he moves on to pepper kisses down Tommy’s neck. Alfie removes his hands from his skin only long enough to open the top buttons of his shirt so he can nibble at the newly exposed skin. Tommy gasps, “since I’ve first seen you wander around the closed shop, before you’ve really begun renovating it yet. Fuck, Alfie, I need more.”

“Hmm, that _is_ a long time,” Alfie murmurs into the crook of Tommy’s neck, smiling when Tommy’s hand in his hair presses him closer, “you will get what you need, Thomas,” he places a peck on his collar bone, “but not here, not now,” the baker steps away and Tommy wants to chase his touch. He does his best to stay put.

At least Alfie is just as flustered and needy as Tommy, but he seems to have way more control over himself. The baker clears his throat, “I’d like to take you out for dinner. Tonight, preferably.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me into your bed afterwards,” Tommy says as he slumps back against the wall, still sitting on the counter. His words have the desired effect of making Alfie blush as the man nods, a dark glint in his eyes, “deal.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alfie takes Tommy out on a date and then dutifully fucks him into his bed, as promised. It would be rude otherwise, wouldn’t it? And Tommy loves every second of it. Afterwards, they’re laying in bed, spent and hazy, Alfie standing up only long enough to fetch a wet cloth for them to clean themselves up.

Tommy isn’t into cuddling usually, but it’s hard to resist Alfie when he lifts his arm up invitingly. They’re tangled together as close as they can possibly be, lit softly by the warm glow of Alfie’s bedside lamp.

“ _In the beginning we start with roses_ ,” Tommy says softly, “where did you get that?”

“You think they weren’t my words?” Alfie says in mock offence as he slowly stokes through Tommy’s hair.

“They weren’t.”

“They weren’t,” Alfie admits, “it’s from a book by Ruth McLeod-Kerns. Carnations never wilt.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well… it’s sort of about grief.”

“You used a quote from a book about grief as a pickup line?” Tommy does his best to sound offended.

Alfie shrugs, smirking, “it worked, didn’t it?”

Tommy smiles, “yeah, guess it did.”

**Author's Note:**

> So cheesy it makes my lactose intolerance flare up ;D  
> Hope you enjoyed it, it was a fun one to write.


End file.
